I've been thinking about my personal style all week and came to this conclusion: I'm going to wear what makes me happy. And right now, that seems to be heading toward the folk-y, romantic side of things. I'm okay with this.

With this in mind, I was cleaning out my closet over the past few days, and I gathered lots of clothes to sell at Buffalo Exchange off Hawthorne in Portland. Hawthorne is one of the coolest streets in Portland, and I was having clothing troubles yesterday. Because it's been so hot here, I settled with a colorful striped shirt and shorts with a corset closure. Basic and simple. I was all like "whatever, I'm just there to sell some stuff - no big deal". So after driving a half an hour to get to the place, I get out of my car with two HUGE bags of stuff, when suddenly a wave of embarrassment crashes over me. Portland, especially in this area, is full of super stylish hipsters - people that I admire and aspire to be - and I'm in a stupid, basic, outfit from Target and I'm NOT EVEN WEARING ANY JEWELRY. To calm my anxiety I leave the bags in the car and head to Peet's, where I find myself behind a group of artistically dressed high schoolers. I hate it when kids travel in groups... because, honestly, I'm kind of scared of teenagers (cue My Chemical Romance). Something about their judgmental eyes, and carefree attitude. Screw high schoolers. I was totally a mess ordering my green tea lemonade, and felt super embarrassed just being there. Sad, right? I know. I felt pretty pathetic.

Then I head to Buffalo Exchange with my huge bags in tow. Is it just me, or is everyone looking at me?  I only end up selling three things there, and I felt totally intimidated by all the adorably-stylish workers. I did, however, end up having a great conversation with the girl helping me out, and it turns out that I'm not the only one who changes 15 times a day.

I have got to get this wardrobe situation under control so I can start to feel confident in unknown territory, especially when surrounded by super-stylish hipsters. Sigh.

Opposite Day

   So, I got in the spirit of things and went to Target yesterday with my head held high and only two items on my list: purple hair dye and a pair of black platform sandals I've been eyeing for weeks.

    I confidently strode in through the automatic doors, and was completely unfazed by all the adorable merchandise that would usually make my wallet fly open. My mind was set. I bee-lined to the shoe department first, and those perfect sandals greeted me. My stomach suddenly became fluttery. They had my size in the color I was looking for. "What if I actually bought these?," I thought. A woman and her daughter came into the same aisle as me, and I quickly made an escape. "I would look SO high-maintainance. Men would hate that," I thought as I noticed I started feeling a bit warm and sweaty. But a part of me wouldn't let the subject drop, and I u-turned around the shoe department THREE times before I made another attempt to put the shoes in my basket. This time the aisle was clear, and, before I thought twice about it, I strode up to those damn shoes and put them in my basket without another word. 

    My next stop was the hair coloring aisle, located in the very-busy beauty department. There was no way in hell I would have the aisle to myself, so I made a strategic approach this time - I found the correct aisle and skirted the outside until I could slide in right next to the bright colors. In front of the purple hair dye, I found myself getting all sweaty again. I was really pushing my emotional limit here. I've never IN MY LIFE dyed my hair an unnatural color. In general, actually, I try to avoid hair dye all together, because the chemicals freak me out. This was something I've always wanted to do, but it was a surefire way to get looked at. There was no hiding with purple hair. My inner-fear was starting to take over. I was just about to walk away, when I put my foot down and screamed in my head," WHO CARES WHAT THEY THINK!!?!"  I picked up the dye, put it in my basket, and headed toward the check out. **cue wild applause**

    I picked a guy with tats to ring me up, and walked out of there with my head held high, and a HUGE weight lifted off my shoulders. 

  When I put on the shoes after I got home, I felt like a freaking geisha - beautiful, mysterious, and sexy as hell. I have yet to touch the hair dye, but that moment will come soon. I guarantee it!